with me. I took a
seat next to Becky and buried my face in my hands.
“Let me guess, you’ve never played dodge
ball before, huh? I’ve been playing it my whole life and I’m always the first
one out. I’ve gotten to a point where I don’t really care too much. As long as
I pass gym, it’s okay. My mom says I don’t need an A in gym to get far in
life.”
Becky twirled her braid around her
finger as she babbled about gym. Honestly, I had looked forward to this class. I
may not understand math, but I was accustomed to physical activity. I once ran
with the Masaii in Africa and my black belt spoke volumes about my discipline
and stamina, not to mention my deadly ability to break through concrete blocks
with my hand. Yet dodging a ball was beyond my abilities. It was embarrassing.
“What do you want to do when you get
out of this town?” I asked Becky, trying not to dwell on my problems. I needed
to make a friend here and so far she was it. We sat back on the bleachers,
leaning against the row behind us, our butts resting on the planks. Not
comfortable, but better than sitting up.
“You’ll laugh,” Becky said, her mouth
firmed up as she crossed her arms. I waited for her to say something. Two words?
That was all? Strange. I hadn’t known her long, but I knew she was a motor
mouth. Something was up.
“I won’t laugh,” I promised. I took
my index finger and slashed across my heart. I’d never made a motion like that
before, but I thought Becky would appreciate it.
Becky looked around. No one paid
attention to us. The cheerleaders to the left braided each other’s hair. The
music girls to the right were tapping out syncopated rhythms on their knees. No
one really cared what we did or said, which was just fine with me.
She leaned in, her lips close to my
ear. I waited, tense, wondering what could be so awful, so weird that she
wouldn’t want anyone to overhear.
“A supermodel.”
I jerked away and stared at her, my
eyes wide. “Seriously?”
“You’re not laughing.”
“I wouldn’t laugh about that.”
“I’ve always known if I told people
they would laugh at me. But there’s something they don’t know. Something I’ve
never told anyone at school, but I think I’m about to tell you. Not just
because I kinda like you, because I believe we were meant to be best friends.
Our moms were best friends as kids and I guess I thought that meant we would be
too. I’ve been waiting for you my whole life and I think maybe I’ve imagined it
one too many times. I always wanted to visit you the other summers on the farm,
but my mom never let me because I was too busy in the summers. Too busy
modeling in Chicago.”
My mind swirled. Our moms were best
friends as kids? I didn’t know much about my mom’s life here. I knew that from
a young age she could be found digging in the fields looking for Indian
artifacts, or buying language tapes to pop in her Walkman, a primitive form of
iPod, so she could learn how to speak Thai. My mom was weird in a place where
everyone else aspired to be farmers. A few escaped to college with her, but
most of them went back, including her first love, Jon.
Mom carried a picture of the two of
them, in overalls covered in dirt, in her wallet. I don’t think she knew I
found it. I saw it once when I was, um, borrowing money from her.
I glanced back at Becky. I’d made
friends with a model the first day of school? A social outcast secret model,
though. Kinda cool when I thought about it.
I looked beyond her pigtail braids
and black glasses to her azure eyes and dark eyelashes. Becky’s arms and legs were
longer than some of the pythons I’d encountered in South America. Her tiny feet
fit into impossibly small gym shoes. How hadn’t I noticed before that she was
drop-dead gorgeous?
“You hide it well,” I said.
Becky smiled. Her perfect white teeth
gleamed as a blush crossed her face. I could see it now. Why didn’t anyone else
see it? Were they so used to seeing
seat next to Becky and buried my face in my hands.
“Let me guess, you’ve never played dodge
ball before, huh? I’ve been playing it my whole life and I’m always the first
one out. I’ve gotten to a point where I don’t really care too much. As long as
I pass gym, it’s okay. My mom says I don’t need an A in gym to get far in
life.”
Becky twirled her braid around her
finger as she babbled about gym. Honestly, I had looked forward to this class. I
may not understand math, but I was accustomed to physical activity. I once ran
with the Masaii in Africa and my black belt spoke volumes about my discipline
and stamina, not to mention my deadly ability to break through concrete blocks
with my hand. Yet dodging a ball was beyond my abilities. It was embarrassing.
“What do you want to do when you get
out of this town?” I asked Becky, trying not to dwell on my problems. I needed
to make a friend here and so far she was it. We sat back on the bleachers,
leaning against the row behind us, our butts resting on the planks. Not
comfortable, but better than sitting up.
“You’ll laugh,” Becky said, her mouth
firmed up as she crossed her arms. I waited for her to say something. Two words?
That was all? Strange. I hadn’t known her long, but I knew she was a motor
mouth. Something was up.
“I won’t laugh,” I promised. I took
my index finger and slashed across my heart. I’d never made a motion like that
before, but I thought Becky would appreciate it.
Becky looked around. No one paid
attention to us. The cheerleaders to the left braided each other’s hair. The
music girls to the right were tapping out syncopated rhythms on their knees. No
one really cared what we did or said, which was just fine with me.
She leaned in, her lips close to my
ear. I waited, tense, wondering what could be so awful, so weird that she
wouldn’t want anyone to overhear.
“A supermodel.”
I jerked away and stared at her, my
eyes wide. “Seriously?”
“You’re not laughing.”
“I wouldn’t laugh about that.”
“I’ve always known if I told people
they would laugh at me. But there’s something they don’t know. Something I’ve
never told anyone at school, but I think I’m about to tell you. Not just
because I kinda like you, because I believe we were meant to be best friends.
Our moms were best friends as kids and I guess I thought that meant we would be
too. I’ve been waiting for you my whole life and I think maybe I’ve imagined it
one too many times. I always wanted to visit you the other summers on the farm,
but my mom never let me because I was too busy in the summers. Too busy
modeling in Chicago.”
My mind swirled. Our moms were best
friends as kids? I didn’t know much about my mom’s life here. I knew that from
a young age she could be found digging in the fields looking for Indian
artifacts, or buying language tapes to pop in her Walkman, a primitive form of
iPod, so she could learn how to speak Thai. My mom was weird in a place where
everyone else aspired to be farmers. A few escaped to college with her, but
most of them went back, including her first love, Jon.
Mom carried a picture of the two of
them, in overalls covered in dirt, in her wallet. I don’t think she knew I
found it. I saw it once when I was, um, borrowing money from her.
I glanced back at Becky. I’d made
friends with a model the first day of school? A social outcast secret model,
though. Kinda cool when I thought about it.
I looked beyond her pigtail braids
and black glasses to her azure eyes and dark eyelashes. Becky’s arms and legs were
longer than some of the pythons I’d encountered in South America. Her tiny feet
fit into impossibly small gym shoes. How hadn’t I noticed before that she was
drop-dead gorgeous?
“You hide it well,” I said.
Becky smiled. Her perfect white teeth
gleamed as a blush crossed her face. I could see it now. Why didn’t anyone else
see it? Were they so used to seeing